


Boggart

by SaziSkylion



Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaziSkylion/pseuds/SaziSkylion
Summary: When Barley sees a Boggart during a basketball game, Ian needs to find the strength to be the one to comfort the man who has always been there for him.
Relationships: Barley Lightfoot & Ian Lightfoot
Comments: 25
Kudos: 94





	1. The Closed Door

“Come on Dragons! You got this!” Ian whooped.

He couldn't remember the last time he and Barley had gone to a game together. The last definite one was when Barley was in 9th grade and won the State Wrestling Heavyweight Championship, but there could have been more after that. Ian couldn't really remember. He was most likely hiding in the band room away from all the noise.  
Thus, Ian hadn't fully realized how much fun it was.

Colt and Laurel were in the next town over on a night out with friends, and Barley actually suggested they go see the game. “Finals are over, my man! Treat yourself!” was his excuse.

It wasn't normally Ian's type of crowd- a month ago, anything with a face would have scared the daylights out of him.

Now, things were different and Ian couldn't have been happier.

The crowd cheered as the Dragons scored another basket against their sworn enemy, the Gorgonville Redcaps. The timer ticked down to halftime, the crowd roared, and the Lightfoot brothers were entirely prepared for victory against the Redcaps.

Just as the buzzer went off the Dragons' captain, Leo Hackney, leaped over one of the Redcaps and shot for one last basket.

“And that ends the second quarter! Dragons, 16, Redcaps, 10!”

Ian and Barley cheered and whistled as both teams came off the court.

“16 to 10, we got this.” Barley declared with confidence as he straightened his vest.

“Oh totally.” Ian chirped. He opened his mouth to continue when his stomach growled. A faun walked by with a bag of popcorn and only then did Ian remember he skipped lunch in order to study.

“You hungry? I'd kill for a hot dog right about now.” he quipped.

Barley flashed Ian a big smile and hopped up. “Oh yeah, absolutely! Onward, dear brother! Sustenance awaits!” he declared loudly and trotting off. One month ago, Ian would have been utterly mortified. But now, the odd looks from the crowd around them were nonexistent and Ian had the issue of hunger more at the front of his mind than he did with worrying about the opinion of strangers.

Ian followed Barley down the bleachers into the cafeteria where his history teacher Mr. Snowfire was working along with some alumni Barley recognized from his old speech class.

“Hey Mr. S! Albus, my guy, how are you doing this lovely eve?” Barley greeted. Mr. Snowfire returned the gesture.

“Hey Barley, Ian! I'm doin' well, how are you and Ian doing?” the centaur with white fur replied, already assembling a pair of hot dogs.

“Pretty good, Mr. Snowfire.” Ian replied, placing his cash on the counter. “Two bags of popcorn and two hot dogs, please.”

Barley had gone over to get them a couple bottles of tea to drink when he felt the need to use the restroom.

“Ian, I'll be right back, I gotta use the little raider's room.”

Ian nodded. “Make it quick, we don't wanna miss the halftime show!”

He turned back to order a little extra something for Barley: A bag of cheese puffs.

It was perhaps a bit inappropriate to be so sentimental over a bag of snacks that tasted like styrofoam, but the memory of floating down a river on a giant cheese puff was one Ian cherished.

“Mr. Lightfoot?”

Ian hadn't realized he'd spaced out and snapped to attention when his teacher said his name.

“9 dollars, please.” Mr. Snowfire totaled, taking the cash Ian had handed him.

“Right, sorry Mr. Snowfire. Just a little spaced out.” Ian replied awkwardly.

Mr. Snowfire put the snacks in a paper bag, except for the popcorn and counted out Ian's change.

Ian had only just grabbed his change when a bloodcurdling scream came from the restroom.

There was a collective gasp from the people milling about the cafeteria when Barley tore out of the restroom and slammed the door closed as quickly as he could. He held the door closed, his knuckles white as he gripped the door's frame. For but a split moment the crowd around them thought it was a trick, but when the sound of something shrieking and snarling and pounding and clawing the other side of the door, they were far less cynical.

“Someone call security!” Ian called, forgetting all about the snacks and rushing toward Barley to help him hold the door shut.

“Stay back!” he snarled.

Barley never got that angry.

“Barley, what's happening?!” Ian demanded over the cacophony of eldritch shrieks.

“Just stay back! Everyone stay back!” Barley repeated, pushing all of his weight against the door. Even that might not be enough to keep it closed.

Security arrived and tried to pull Barley off the door, but the man was pushing against it so hard that nobody could do so. He fought against the officers with the desperation of a caged chimera and immediately rushed back to the door to keep it shut.

He kept repeating 'Stay back, stay back,' begging people not to go into that bathroom, and one of the guards asked Barley what was in there.

Barley turned to the officer with wide, frightened eyes. “Boggart.” he croaked.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“How on earth did a Boggart get into the school?”

“I dunno!”

“Aren't they the things that turn into your worst fear?”

“Yeah, I think so!”

Ian's stomach dropped. He was helpless to do anything and couldn't get any closer to Barley due to the growing crowd and the security officers, but he could see in his brother's face that he was full-on panicking.

Gray skin, white knuckles, sweat rolling down his face... Ian knew that look. He knew that feeling.

A cyclops officer called for animal control to come to the school and began to disperse the crowd.

Diverting his attention from the people milling about, Ian carefully approached his sibling.

“Sorry kid, we're gonna have to peel this guy off the door if we're gonna get that Boggart out.” the officer said as he stepped between Ian and Barley.

“Officer please, that's my brother!”

“Look, kid I know you're worried- Hey!”

Ian slipped past the officer and up to Barley.

“Barley? Barley, look at me.” he coaxed, but Barley didn't move. Now that he was close, he could see that Barley looked a mess.

There was desperation on his face, his skin ghastly white and covered in sweat. His hair clung to his forehead in sweaty strings, and his knuckles were so white that the untrained eye could have mistaken them for bare bone.

“Ian..?”

His voice was small, frightened.

Scared.

This wasn't right. Barley didn't get scared.

His gaze moved to meet Ian's. Once again, Ian saw nothing but raw terror in its purest form.

“Animal control is on the way, they'll get that thing out but you have to let go of the door.” Ian replied.

Barley furiously shook his head.

“No! If I let go of the door it'll escape!” he protested, but Ian put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

Then Barley said something that made Ian's heart lurch.

“It looked at me. It knows.”

He didn't need to clarify.

Another loud shriek on the other side of the door filled their ears and again, Barley put every ounce of strength into keeping that door closed.

“Barley, I don't know what you saw but you can't keep that door shut forever!” Ian pleaded. He opened his mouth again to further beg Barley to calm down, but the approach of animal control stopped him.

The leader of the animal control team, a stocky elf with big eyebrows and a mustache similar to Colt's, stepped forward.

“This the room with the Boggart?” he asked in a monotonous grumble.

Ian nodded.

“Yes sir. My brother saw it in there and he's been holding the door shut ever since.”

The elf nodded and motioned for his team, who approached carrying a large pet cage covered in a sheet.

“Alright son, I'm gonna need ya to step away from the door.” he stated to Barley.

Barley frantically shook his head.

“We know how to capture these things, son. Step away from the door.”

“You don't wanna see what's in there.”

“Barley-” Ian protested.

“Please. If it gets out and looks at me again-”

His voice quivered just enough for the pure terror to be made clear.

“Then close your eyes, son. Can't be that bad.”

Barley froze and scowled at the leader. “Don't patronize me.”

He reluctantly changed his hold on the door.

“Ian, get behind me and close your eyes. Do not let that thing see your eyes.” Barley warned.

Ian did as Barley said and positioned himself behind his sibling.

The leader nodded. “On three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

Barley yanked the door open and the team burst inside.

There was a full second of silence before the air was filled with commotion, screeching, and unintelligible shouts, various four-letter curse words and a furious snarl from the beast.

After minutes, the team managed to capture the Boggart and trap it in the carrier.

It took them just as long to convince Barley it was safe.

Barley took a seat on a nearby bench, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands in front of his mouth.

Statements were taken, the game finished, but Barley didn't move from that bench.

“That screw-up again?” Ian heard someone comment.

He snapped his head around and gave them a nasty look. “That's my brother, and he's not a screw-up, so don't call him one.” he snapped.

The commenter, a faun named Peter that Ian regularly butted heads with (so to speak) in his math class, stepped away.

Ian watched them until they left the building and returned to the bench where Barley was seated.

“Hey, people are leaving. We-”

He had barely gotten close to his brother when he was suddenly pulled into a tight hug. Barley buried his face into Ian's shirt; When Ian protested, Barley spoke and Ian's heart ripped in half.

“Please don't say anything.”

Ian wrapped his arms around Barley's shoulders and held him tight. He didn't know what to do or say as the larger elf's shoulders began to shake and muffled sobs slipped out.

That was the first time Ian had ever heard Barley cry.


	2. Chilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barley doesn't want to talk, so Ian seeks out his mother for some advice on how to help him.

Pulling himself together was not easy. Barley stood there and clung to Ian like a struggling sailor clings to a piece of driftwood, his body shaking with muffled sobs.

People stared, but Ian ignored them. He stood with his arms around his brother, not sure what to say or to do. Ian wanted to help Barley so badly because this was not normal.

In all his years of knowing Barley, Barley never showed a shred of fear. Even if he should have been scared, he never showed it. Not in a scary movie, not in a haunted house, not at the Bottomless Pit.  
The lights finally started getting turned off and the custodian, an old goblin named Neal, walked up to them.

“Sorry to interrupt yer hugfest, but y'all need ta get on outta here.” he said in a gravelly mumble.

Ian nodded in acknowledgment. “Right. Sorry Neal, we'll be on our way.”

Neal nodded back and turned to Barley. “It ain't easy facin' a Boggart by yerself big guy, but you'll be fine. Here's yer snacks.”

Neal left a paper bag with the concessions Ian had bought earlier in the night on the bench.

Barley didn't react. Neal hadn't expected him to.

Ian thanked the janitor and tried to pull away from the hug, but Barley wasn't letting go.

Ian patted Barley on the back. “You want me to drive?”

Barley nodded without a word.

“You're gonna have to let go if you want me to.” Ian attempted to joke, but his effort to lighten the mood was for naught. Barley held Ian tighter, as if he would disappear if he let go.

Something the poor man had experienced in reality when he and their father got to say goodbye. Ian hadn't forgotten that. He rubbed Barley's shoulder and hoped it would bring the elder Lightfoot some comfort.

“I'm not gonna leave you by yourself, Bar. It's okay.”

Only then did Barley pull back.

He looked awful.

His face was still pale and wet with sweat and tears. His eyes were red and puffy and his hands were trembling like leaves.

“Let's go, I'd rather be anywhere but here.” Barley muttered. He crossed his arms and began to make his way back to the van.

Ian picked up the bag of snacks and trotted after Barley to catch up. What did he see that shook him up so badly?

He needed an answer.

They made it out to the parking lot where Guinevere II was the only vehicle left. Familiar, ancient, safe, their ride home.

Barley had never been more relieved to see that van. He just wanted to go home and act like today never happened.

“Are you sure you want me to drive?” Ian asked once he caught to his brother.

Barley nodded and handed Ian the keys. “Yeah. It's... safer.” he stammered.

His hands were shaking so violently the keys were rattling.

Ian watched as Barley climbed into the passenger seat, clutching the keys in his free hand as confusion and curiosity clawed at his mind.

The school wasn't far from their home, but the drive seemed to take an eternity. The silence was deafening, the tension palpable, and shame was suffocating.

_How could I do that... How could I just lose my cool in front of him like that._

_Gods, I'm so stupid. How on earth did I let that get to me so quick._

_I hate this. I hate being scared. I hate feeling like this. I hate feeling helpless. I hate feeling powerless._

_I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this._

_I want to help him._

_I wish he'd say something._

_What did you see?_

_I've never seen you get so scared before._

_Seeing you scared makes me scared._

Ian pulled into the driveway and parked, but he didn't exit the van. He turned toward Barley, who hadn't moved or spoken the entire drive home.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ian asked softly.

“No.”

“Barley-”

“I said no and don't ask me again.”

Barley twisted his fingers into the sleeves of his shirt. The look on his face was nothing short of numb rage and terror, a mask to hide the turmoil that whirled in his mind like a hurricane.

He looked and felt helpless. Barley hated feeling helpless more than he hated being called a screw-up. Feeling helpless only made him angry, and that in turn made him more afraid. He wanted, more than anything, to make this disgusting combination of fear and silent rage go away.

Ian bit his lip, withdrawing slightly.

Barley grimaced and sighed deeply. “Sorry... I just, I dunno... I really, really don't want to talk about it right now, Ian.”

The junior Lightfoot nodded understandingly. He didn't know what to do or to say or how he could calm Barley down; this wasn't like their first quest, because their dad wasn't there to dissipate the tension.

However, Ian knew there was one small thing he could do.

He reached into the paper bag with their concessions and handed Barley the bag of cheese puffs.

“I know it's not much but... here.”

Only then did Barley divert his attention from the oh-so-interesting chain link fence in front of them. The gesture was enough to form a weak smile.

“Thanks.”

He took the bag and put it in his shorts pocket; Barley's hands were still shaking. “Let's go... Mom's probably wondering where we're at.”

Ian nodded and climbed out of the driver's seat. Barley joined him and they entered their home together. “You sure you don't wanna talk?”

“Yes.”

Ian vowed to get an explanation one way or another but now was not the time. Barley had been shaken to his very core and so deeply frightened that he outright refused to talk. Barley never stopped talking.

But for now that was going to be the end of their conversation. Barley needed to recover, and frankly so did Ian. The night had taken one hell of a turn and all either of them wanted to do was crawl under their covers and slip off into the dreamland.

Barley immediately went to get a glass of water; Crying like a giant baby in front of everyone at that damn game had made him thirsty and tea was just going to keep him awake. He didn't want to be awake, he didn't want to think, he didn't want to feel. He just wanted to get a drink and go to bed and forget.

Ian had never felt more helpless in his life. He hated feeling helpless.

“Barley-”

“I'm goin' to bed. I'll see ya tomorrow.” Barley grumbled.

He didn't even notice that Laurel had come into the kitchen. He was through the door and down the stairs faster than she could say 'Hello.'

Another red flag that Barley was not okay.

Laurel frowned and turned toward Ian. “Ian? Is everything okay?”

Ian exhaled and shook his head. “Not really.”

Her brows slanted up in worry. “What happened?”

“You might wanna sit down, it's kind of a long story...”

Ian sat with his mother at the dining table and folded his hands in front of him. Laurel could sense Ian was bothered by something, and so was Barley.

“There was an incident at the game tonight.” Ian explained.

Laurel nodded. “I figured. Neither of you looked very okay when I came in.”

Ian let out a weak laugh. “Neither of us feel very okay, Mom.” he confessed. “And Barley... He's had a rough night.”

“What do you mean? Did he get in a fight?” 

Ian shook his head. “I was getting concessions at halftime and Barley had to use the bathroom. I was just talking to Mr. Snowfire when I heard Barley scream and run out. Mom, I have never seen him move that fast...”

Just remembering the absolute terror written on Barley's face frightened Ian.

“He kept the door closed and wouldn't let anyone near it. I tried to help him hold it shut but he just kept yelling at everyone to get back. One of the security officers tried to ask Barley what he saw, but he only said 'Boggart.'”

Laurel gasped. “Oh no.”

Ian nodded. “It took two officers and me to convince him to let go of the door. After they were done, Barley, he just... He just sat on one of the benches until everyone left. It was like time and the world around him didn't exist.”

He gulped and looked up at Laurel. “Mom, I have never seen Barley look so scared in my life. He's been out of sorts since and I wanna help him but he won't talk about it!” he cried desperately.

Laurel exhaled. “Oh boy...”

“Mom, I know Barley says he's fearless. I don't doubt he is, he's the bravest person I know. But do you have any inkling about what he might have seen?” Ian gulped before he continued. “To see him so scared, so... So upset, it wasn't right. It wasn't normal. I just, I dunno... I wanna help him.

Laurel sighed and folded her hands over each other on the table. Her expression was somber and her tone equally so. “Ian, you're aware that Barley isn't fond of hospitals, right?”

Ian nodded. “I am.”

“I can't say for sure, but I do wonder if a hospital setting was something he saw. I can't guarantee anything, it's just a theory... Look honey, I don't want you to stress about this any more than Barley. But we will get to the bottom of this. Okay?”

“On a quest, you have to use what you've got...” Ian muttered to himself. He looked up to his mother. “I'm gonna find out what he saw. Maybe when I do he can start to feel better.”

Laurel rose from her chair and approached Ian.  
“I don't know, but it's worth a shot.” Laurel smiled at Ian and kissed his forehead. “It's late. You go to bed and we'll get some answers in the morning.”

“Doubtful, but appreciated. Goodnight, mom.” Ian replied, giving her a hug. He made his way up the stairs, Blazey happily following. Ian plopped down at his desk and immediately pulled out his notebook and multi-pen, and went about creating a list.

"Help Barley Feel Okay Again"

  * Find out what Barley saw in the bathroom (Hospital?)
  * Make Barley feel better
  * Talk it out.



How was Ian going do this? He knew from past experiences that it was not going to be so simple or easy. Ian was never good at talking about his feelings and frankly neither was Barley.

But right now Barley needed help. and by Odin, Ian was going to try.


	3. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hindsight is 20/20

Ian didn't sleep well that night. His mind was on overdrive, trying to piece together what had made Barley so upset; Surely it wasn't being called a screw-up. No, it couldn't have been that. Barley was hurt and angered by that but it never scared him.

That reaction was so... raw, so primal. Being called a screw-up wouldn't make Barley react so strongly.

Ian had realized that the reputation was completely unfair; Besides, Barley made a public ass of himself to protect the old fountain where he found the Phoenix Gem. If that fountain had been destroyed before he found it, people would have been hurt, possibly even killed.

Is Barley even aware of that? Probably...

Ian lay in his bed, rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He remembered his mother mentioning that Barley didn't like hospitals.

Barley didn't just dislike hospitals.

He hated them.

He dreaded every time he needed a physical or had to get a checkup or even go to the eye doctor.

Ian would never forget that Barley almost fainted when an ambulance pulled up behind Guinevere II on the drive home from the lot.

It has to be something to do with hospitals. Or medical stuff in general.

He mulled over the events of the evening again and again, each moment playing out in his mind like old film: The look on Barley's face, his anger when anyone approached, the whiteness of his knuckles.

The shuddering of Barley's sobs.

He remembered the way Barley's voice strained when he told Ian not to talk. It was the same strain he had in his voice when he talked about his last memory of their dad.

“... but he was hooked up to all these tubes and... he just didn't look like himself. I got scared, and I didn't go in...”

Even thinking about what Barley saw, their father so gaunt and frail, the complete opposite of the man captured in those photos on Ian's bulletin board, it wasn't fair... How could someone so active and lively, someone so genuinely good and desperate to meet the boys he would never get to see grow up, be taken when he was barely in his 30's?

And Barley... He was three. Three years old.  
He had to grow up and become a sort of man-of-the-house at three years old.

Ian couldn't remember a time where Barley didn't at least try to make things better. True he was a bit clumsy and kind of a lunkhead but he never ever meant anyone any harm.

And above all he was not a screw-up.

Ian sat up in his bed and looked over at his wizard staff by the door, propped up against the desk. Barley's special edition Quests of Yore book sat open on top of the desk, and even from his bed, Ian could see the page it was open to.

_Illusio Facadis._

His gut turned as he got an idea. A stupid idea.  
But it was the only idea Ian had.

He didn't hesitate in getting dressed again and grabbed his staff.

“Illusio Facadis.” Ian declared.

Ian turned to the mirror that hung inside his open closet door.

Barley looked back at him. Ian let the spell wear off and once again he saw his own face in the mirror.

Ian sighed and looked down at the staff in his hands. A part of him got the feeling this wasn't going to work. But if Ian was going to get an answer, well... desperate times call for desperate measures.

Blazey didn't hear or see Ian slip down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Nobody heard him leave the house, and nobody saw him begin the trek downtown toward the animal control building.

Ian got to the end of the driveway when he looked back at the house. His expression softened.  
“I'm sorry, Barley. Please understand.” he whispered and began to walk.

Thankfully it wasn't as far as he was expecting, nothing a quick ride on the bus couldn't fix, and in less than an hour he was finally at the bus stop across the street from the Animal Control building.

He didn't notice the pair of headlights rolling up the block behind him.

Ian was halfway across the street when a loud 'Ahem' came from behind him.

He spun around to see the real Barley, arms crossed and absolutely seething.


	4. The Reprimand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barley is not happy with his brother's reckless behavior.

“Funny meeting you out here.” Barley said with calm anger lacing every word and dripping with ice. Ian hated when Barley talked like that. It was scarier than being yelled at, because that meant he was so angry that he was deliberately keeping himself calm.

Ian glanced around and tried to explain himself, but only succeeded in making disconnected words and stutters.

Barley's patience had been long lost, so he proceeded to grab his brother by the ear and drag him into the van parked a short distance away.

“Alright, spit it out. What in the name of Zirkon the Undying are you doing downtown, with your staff, alone, at two in the morning?” Barley demanded. He leered over Ian, making him shrink down even more in shame.

“W-what??” Ian stammered dumbly.

“Don't play stupid, Ian. You were going to find the boggart and use the disguise spell to turn into me and figure out what I saw.”

Ian opened his mouth to speak, just in time to be berated by Barley again.

“Now I'll be able to know if you're lying no matter what answer you give me, so start talkin'.”

Barley narrowed his eyes at his brother and began impatiently tapping his foot against the floor of the van.

Ian realized he'd been caught, and decided to just spill the beans.

“Okay, yes. Yes, you're right, I was gonna do exactly what you said. But how am I supposed to figure out why you're so upset if you won't talk to me?!” Ian snapped back.

“Because I'm fucking tired and I wanted to sleep it off.” Barley hissed. Ian noticeably shrank down.

“I-I, um...”

Barley's jaw clenched and he exhaled through his nose impatiently.

“I-I just, I mean... You weren't telling me why you got so upset at the game! You just shut down! You got quiet and acted like everything around you didn't exist!” Ian explained, wringing his hands together.

“You wouldn't acknowledge me or talk, and that's how I knew it was bad because, no offense, you never stop talking. And then when you hugged me and started crying-”

Barley put a hand up. He didn't look so angry as he looked disappointed and embarrassed.

“That's enough. We're going home.”

Ian made a disbelieving noise.

“You know what? No, no we aren't.” he stated, his fear melting away into anger.

Barley stilled. “I beg your pardon?”

Ian repeated himself. “I said we aren't going home.”

Barley turned around in the driver's seat and gave Ian an angry look, causing Ian to greatly reconsider his choices. “Iandore Legolas Lightfoot, you sit your ass down and listen to me. We are going home now and going to bed. I'm tired, and you're tired, and running in there like some jackass isn't going to give you anything. Besides if you go in there looking like me, do you have any idea how that'll make both of us look? How much trouble _you'd_ be in?? You could get suspended, Ian!”

Ian shrank down in the beanbag chair. He didn't feel so confident about his decision anymore.

Barley turned to face forward and turned on the van. He didn't turn on the radio. He didn't say anything else. He just drove.

Back up the streets to the familiar neighborhood of New Mushroomton and parking back in the driveway.

Barley set the van to park and turned back to see Ian, curled up on the beanbag with his head in his arms. He felt a pang of guilt for making Ian upset... After all he was just trying to help.

_But you can't tell him, can you? Showing sadness makes you weak. And tonight, you were weak. You could never tell him why you were so upset, because then you won't be Big Strong Barley anymore._

The elder brother sighed and put the keys in his pocket. “C'mon. Let's go.”

Ian got up and followed, not saying a word. He stayed behind Barley, his gaze fixated on his sibling's sneakers as he fought not to cry.

He just wanted to help, and it had backfired royally.

Barley was about to head down into his room when he paused at the door. He felt awful. Plain and simple, he felt awful. 

“... It wouldn't have worked anyway.” He said to Ian. Barley still didn't turn to face him.

Ian grimaced. “And how would you know that?” he snapped- or rather tried to. Instead, he just whimpered it out, a croaky sentence that revealed how close he was to tears.

Barley visibly grimaced.

“Boggarts can see through disguise spells. Even if you took my form, it would know it was you, and it would've taken on your worst fear.”

Barley paused. “I don't need that vision in my head, and you don't need to see it laid out in front of you like that.”

Ian's face twisted in frustrated sorrow. “And you did?!” he sobbed. “Barley, you can't just freak out like that and then turn around and give me pearls of wisdom you yourself don't follow!”

Tears ran down Ian's face and he turned Barley around so they were eye to eye.

“Barley, please. What did you see?” he pleaded. That's all he wanted, was an answer.

Barley stared back, his expression softening before ever so subtly twitching with frustration- but not directed at Ian.

He clenched his jaw and Ian noticed a microscopic tremble of his lip. Barley's eyes shimmered more than usual.

He wanted to cry.

Barley knew it. Ian knew it. And Barley knew that Ian knew it.

Just one more bruise for Barley's pride.

“You.” he croaked out. “I saw you.”

Before Ian had the chance to ask Barley to explain himself, he had shut the door to his room.

And once again, Ian was alone.

The junior Lightfoot stomped on the ground in frustration, more tears of anger cascading down his face. But why?

Why was Barley's worst fear his own little brother?


	5. Simultaneous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The residents of the Lightfoot household all contemplate what to do next.

Shame? Disgust? Guilt?

Ian didn't know how he felt. He just knew he felt the worst kind of bad he'd felt since he called Barley a screw-up.

He wanted to cry, scream, to throw up, but he ended up doing none of that.

Ian laid on top of his covers, curled up in the fetal position and still wearing the clothes he had put on earlier when he snuck out.

He found the blank off-white wall incredibly fascinating as his mind went blank, his thoughts dissolved to static.

Time didn't exist. As far as he knew a minute or an hour could have passed. It didn't matter.

He sniffed as he thought about Barley, how badly Ian had probably upset him... Did Ian succeed in actually scaring Barley?

What was he going to do now?

–

Barley was not faring any better, though his thoughts were not nearly so fuzzy.

He sat at his desk, his chin resting on one of his arms and the other idly playing with a pencil. Ian's recklessness had definitely soured Barley's already bad mood, and the fear he felt when he heard the door close upstairs was awful.

A horrible weight sat in his chest, like a brick made of the worst emotions known to all denizens of the realm was pressing down just above his sternum. It had been sitting there all night, ever since he saw that emaciated figure that was the cause for Barley's distress.

Barley wanted to cry. He wanted to cry so badly.

But he couldn't. He had come close at the Bottomless Pit, but he didn't.

Barley managed to keep himself together enough that he was able to put up another smile and express his pride and elation that Ian succeeded in crossing that pit.

Ian never knew, and Barley had no intention of telling him.

Crying meant weakness. Barley is Ian's big brother, his father figure, his best friend.

Big brothers aren't supposed to cry, big brothers aren't supposed to be weak.

Being weak meant being helpless.

And Barley loathed feeling helpless above all other things, but it was not in the way he expected when the Boggart saw him.

Knowing something terrible could happen or was happening, and there being nothing he could do...

That is what Barley hated and feared the most.

And when it took the form of Iandore, emaciated and pale, gaunt and hairless, his eyes sunken and ringed with black, standing hunched over and holding onto an IV pole with tubes running in and out of his arms and mouth, when it said his name, in a voice that was Ian's but not, and took a step toward him... That is what made Barley scream.

Barley hadn't realized he was crying until he noticed droplets on the desk beneath him.

He quickly wiped his eyes free of the tears and sniffed.

_No, no not again! Not again!_

Barley fought back his sobs and refused to shed any more tears. It was over, it was done. Ian had his answer and they could all move on.

And yet, his gut told him otherwise. This was not done, and Ian showed tonight that he would take drastic measures to get a more satisfying answer.

Barley dreaded what those measures would be.

–

“I dunno, honey. Are you sure it's as bad as Ian said?” Colt asked as he settled once again onto the bed.

Laurel gave her fiancee a look. “Yes, Colt. I do.”

The centaur cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly. He had been trying very hard to not be so harsh on Barley and seeing him as the history nerd who took a board game too seriously.

“Did Ian explain what happened? I didn't get an alert about it.” he asked as Laurel climbed into bed beside him.

“He said Barley saw a Boggart at the game last night.” Laurel explained as she turned off the lamp. That seemed to surprise Colt.

“A Boggart? This far north?” he said, utterly befuddled.

“Probably some idiot trafficked it up here.”

Laurel laid back up on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. “Barley didn't even say hello. He just disappeared into his room. Colt, I'm worried about what he saw.”

Colt rolled his torso to the side so he was facing Laurel. “Did Ian tell you anything?”

Laurel shook her head. “He said Barley wouldn't talk about it. But I do have a theory.”

She turned her gaze toward Colt and her expression became somber. Oh how she hated remembering that day.

“I probably shouldn't be telling you this. When Wilden was... dying, Barley was supposed to go in so he could say goodbye. But he didn't, he was scared. Seeing his father like that, looking like Wilden but not looking like him either, and not getting the goodbye he needed... I can only imagine what it was that Boggart decided to shift into.”

Colt's ears drooped and his eyes grew wide. So many pieces began to fall into place with Barley's behavior: His apparent recklessness, his fixation on history and magic, his seemingly random disappearances...

“Wow, I... Wow, Laurel. I had no idea.” he stammered out, utterly shocked.

“Barley needed that moment with his father, Colt. But I think what he needs now is to be allowed the chance to be vulnerable.” Laurel continued. She sighed and rested her hands on her midsection.

“He never truly got the chance to be a kid. As soon as I had Ian, it was like everything he did was for Ian.”

She managed a chuckle.

“I can't tell you how many mornings I went into Ian's room just to find Barley asleep on the floor with a colander on his head and brandishing a cardboard sword.”

Her smile faded and became somber once more.

“I'll never forget the fit he threw when I had to go to the hospital. He was strong, even for a little kid, and nobody could pull him off my leg. He kept crying and begging me not to go. I told him 'Honey, I'm going to be okay. I need to go to the hospital so I can have your baby brother safely. He said 'Mom, no! Hospitals are where people go to die!' I kept trying to calm him down and told him no, it's where people go to get better.”

Laurel covered her mouth and closed her eyes. She fought back tears. She would never forget what Barley said next.

"He looked me in the eyes and asked me 'If that's true, why did Dad die?'”

Both of Colt's stomachs dropped. He drew Laurel close, wrapping one of his forelegs around her hips and his arms around her torso.

“Oh my goodness, Laurel... I had no idea.” he breathed.

Laurel shook her head and leaned against his chest.. “I don't know what to do, Colt... It's something based on that, I just know it, but how do I approach this? The last thing I want to do is make Barley withdraw even more.”

And truth be told, neither did Colt himself. He was never great with things like this, but he tried. Oh gods did he try.

He kissed Laurel on the forehead. “Let's sleep on it and we'll figure this out in the morning. Okay?”

Laurel didn't know what to do. She hated sleeping on things like this, but she knew Colt was right. Nobody could reach a rational conclusion when they're exhausted.

“Okay.”

And with that, Laurel cuddled up to Colt and both fell into a restful sleep.

And were the only ones to do so that night.


	6. A Talk With Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Laurel have a heart to heart.

The next day, mercifully, was a Saturday. No work, no school, and no distractions. However, it was a fact Ian was embittered about, because the one thing he really needed was a distraction. Ian hadn't slept a wink all night; He'd remained in the same fetal position on his bed as he had been when he laid down after Barley brought him home.

Ian's gaze hadn't diverted from the wall in the slightest.

“Ian?”

Laurel opened the door and peeked in, seeing Ian curled up on the bed. He hadn't even bothered to take his shoes off.

Ian sniffled a little bit and looked over at Laurel. He smiled sheepishly.

"Hey mom.”

Laurel came in and sat on the bed by Ian's feet. She folded her hands in her lap as she prepared for the conversation she really wished she didn't need to have.

“Barley tells me you snuck out last night, Ian. Is that true?” she asked calmly, but even when Ian was exhausted he could tell she was upset.

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah...”

Laurel frowned and sighed. “Iandore Lightfoot, what were you thinking? What were you hoping to accomplish?”

Ian winced a little and sniffed. Some tears leaked out of his eyes and dripped onto the sheets. “... I was going to use the disguise spell and turn into Barley and try to find out what he saw.” he confessed.

Laurel ran a hand down her face. “Ian, Boggarts-”

“-Can see through disguise spells, so it wouldn't have worked. I know, Barley told me.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Because I didn't know until after Barley brought me home.”

Ian hiccuped and sniffed again, covering his face with his hands. His skinny frame shook with sobs and tears squeezed out from between his fingers.

“I just wanted to help him feel better, I thought that if I could see what he saw I could figure out how...”

Laurel put a hand on Ian's shoulder, but he only cried harder.

“H-he told me-” Ian sobbed. “H-he said he saw me!”

His mother stilled. “Barley saw you what?”

“The boggart! Barley said it turned into me!” he cried. The young wizard looked at his mother, wordlessly pleading, begging for an explanation.

“I-it doesn't make any sense! W-why would he be so encouraging toward me if he's afraid of me?”

Ian buried his face in his hands again. He was so upset and confused and shameful. He felt like poison, like he didn't want to be and just wanted to disappear into his covers and pretend the world didn't exist.

Laurel rubbed Ian's back. “You really think Barley is afraid of you?” she asked softly.

Ian's skinny frame shook with sobs. “I guess so? I mean, he said he saw me...”

“Ian... I don't think it's _you_ he's afraid of.” Laurel explained.

Ian looked up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “What do you mean?”

Laurel ran a hand through her hair. “Based on what Barley has told me about Boggarts in the past, a person's worst fear isn't something tangible. It needs to shift into something that instigates the strongest feeling of fear.” Laurel explained.

Ian frowned. “So what you're saying is the Boggart probably didn't turn into _me_ me, but a version of me that scared him?”

Laurel nodded. “Barley isn't afraid of you. He loves you more than life itself. And that is why I think the thing he fears the most is something happening to you.”

Well then.

That explained why Barley was so angry when Ian snuck out, why he was so upset in the van and so deeply frightened at the game.

Laurel pulled a pair of old photographs out of her pocket and handed them to Ian. He carefully held them in his hands that were still wet with tears.

The first photo was of Ian's room, but there was a crib. Ian was sound asleep on his back in the crib, clad in that yellow onesie from the photo he was wearing in the family photo of himself, Laurel and Barley. On the floor in front of his crib, a colander on his head and holding a cardboard sword, was Barley. He was sound asleep, a little trickle of drool dripping out of his mouth.

He turned his attention to the second photograph. This one was taken in the hospital, Barley sitting on a chair and holding Ian in his arms. He had the biggest grin on his face and was looking down at his new baby brother with so much joy and love it looked like he might burst.

“I can't tell you how many nights I found Barley asleep on the floor by your crib. He did it for probably at least a year.” Laurel explained with a smile. It faded.

“He was always so worried that something bad would happen to you, and when your dad passed away... I think he learned how quickly life could be taken.”

Ian gazed down at the photos in his hands.

“Why are you showing me these?” he asked.

“Because we both need to show Barley that it's okay to not have to be everyone's rock all the time. Even rocks get worn down after a while.” Laurel replied.

Ian stared at the pictures when a light bulb suddenly went off in his head. His eyes widened and he turned to face his mother.

“Ian?”

“Mom, what if that's the real reason Barley would run off? No explanation except for a note or a text- He only did that when he flunked a test or was stressed about school or he got dumped or something else like that! Mom...”

Ian's widened eyes once again welled up with tears.

“... What if the reason Barley runs off is because he doesn't want us to see him cry?”

The pair of elves looked at each other. They shared the same feeling of clarity and sorrow.

“I've only seen him cry once and that was when we were at the game after animal control took the Boggart. Mom, he was so chilly when we were driving home, he wouldn't tell me anything. He wouldn't look at me, he wouldn't let me go right away when he hugged me, I... But why would he be so ashamed of showing that?” Ian wondered aloud.

Laurel paused before speaking once again. “That's something we'll need to approach carefully, Ian. We can't be blunt and reckless, because then he'll just close off even more.”

Ian nodded. He looked down at the photos again and sniffled.

“I need to tell him I'm sorry for sneaking out... Maybe then he'll open up a little bit.”

Laurel smiled. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Ian gently ran his hand along the edges of the photographs. “Do you mind if I hold onto these?”

“Of course, honey.”

Ian managed a smile and set them on his bedside table. “Thanks, mom.”

“I take it I'm grounded?” he asked, keeping his smile.

“Two weeks, no phone.” Laurel replied, holding out her hand.

Ian sighed and handed his phone to Laurel. “Yeah, shoulda seen that coming...”

Laurel put the phone in her pocket. “Come on. Colt brought donuts home for breakfast.”

She rose to her feet and pulled Ian up with her. They went down to the kitchen where Colt was waiting at the table, Ian following behind.

He gave them a nod and a wave.

Ian knocked on Barley's door. "Barley, breakfast." he called.

No response.

"Barley?"

Ian paused before carefully opening the door. "Barley, you up?"

He quietly went down the stairs and glanced around the room. His gaze fell on the sleeping form of Barley at his desk, snoring quietly and his head resting on his crossed arms.

Ian immediately backtracked up the stairs and closed the door, putting his fingers to his lips. "He's still sleeping. Let's leave him be."

Laurel was about to agree when everyone, Colt included, heard a scream from Barley's room.


End file.
